


The Great Hydra Assassin Apology Tour

by razboinicul_iernii



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Awkwardness, Brain Damage, Bucky learns that we live in a society, F/M, Food Issues, Frenemies Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson, Guilt, M/M, Manipulation, Natasha Romanov Feels, Not poly but not a love triangle either, POV Steve Rogers, Past Brainwashing, Protective Natasha Romanov, Road Trips, Slice of Life, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson Friendship, Steve Rogers Feels, Team as Family, These are complicated people with complicated emotions my friends, World Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-01-31 07:25:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18586540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/razboinicul_iernii/pseuds/razboinicul_iernii
Summary: Fresh from his circuit as Hydra's secret weapon, Bucky Barnes expresses a desire. So of course Steve can do nothing but acquiesce, even if said desire will require a lot of globe-trotting to satisfy. Thus was born what Sam comes to dub the Apology World Tour as Bucky makes his way across multiple continents, seeking out the families and loved ones of those he's killed for Hydra. Steve thinks they might be able to see some interesting things along the way. He's not wrong, exactly. Join him, Natasha, and Sam as they take in the sites and marvels the world has to offer, and as they try to teach a sheltered, brain-damaged ex-assassin what it's like to be a (semi)functioning member of society.Featuring cameos from other Avengers friends and then some.





	1. The Airplane, Stroopwafels, The Bear

**Author's Note:**

> good god yall i just got back from Endgame friends....i will say it was an emotional rollercoaster and i wish you all luck. 
> 
> a note about the relationship tags: i want to make it clear, it's not a polyamorous relationship, nor exactly a love triangle but i guess it's closer to that than anything else. Steve and Natasha both have feelings for Bucky, which is a source of friction at times between them. Bucky is kind of oblivious though. WHO WILL HE CHOOSE? Not even I know yet so don't set your hopes too high about that part.

"Told you to buy first class but no. Oh, I lived through an economic _depression,_ Samuel. These prices are _outrageous,_ Samuel." Sam snorted here, sinking mere centimeters into his seat because that's about all he could manage in the cramped conditions.   
  
Steve figured he deserved it. "I'll consider it next time." He'd never really flown commercial before. Or much at all, until joining the Avengers. There was the trip across the Atlantic when the army decided to send the monkey show to Europe, but that'd been on a private flight. Everything else had been military. Since he woke up, his flying tended to be done in Quinjets. Which Steve refused to use for this because it wasn't official Avengers business. Maybe he was regretting not fudging that a little. His ass, legs, and back certainly were.   
  
"No you won't," Sam said. He sat back up, pulled down the tray table, and planted an elbow into it. It nearly bowed under what little of his weight he rested there. "You'll minimize the discomfort of being six foot four in economy seating once you see the price lists online again."  
  
He tilted his head in consideration and conceded that yeah, he would. But who was he to spend that kind of money for a little extra space? People were out there starving for God's sake. The person behind him kicked his seat and he tried to ignore it. He'd taken the middle seat, figuring Bucky would feel better not sitting beside a stranger. Then Sam swapped seats with said stranger. And Natasha wasn't giving her seat up to be closer to them since one of the people in her row didn't show up. She'd quickly laid claim to the empty middle seat space. Which was entirely unfair given that she was the smallest out of the four of them. But he wasn't about to try to outwit her into trading places. He knew his limitations.  
  
"Oh my God," Sam sighed as he looked at the flight map. "Why'd I agree to this again?"  
  
"You said, and I quote, that this is going to end disastrously and documenting it will get you 'hella Instagram followers'."  
  
Sam smiled slightly. "Oh yeah. He's gonna put his metal finger right through the Mona Lisa, you know that right?"  
  
Steve rolled his eyes. "It's behind bullet proof glass, Sam."  
  
"He'll find a way." Sam was flicking through the alcohol options. Steve already couldn't get drunk, but if he could, there was no way in hell he'd pay that much for such a tiny bottle. "You know AirFrance gives you free wine? And Delta, they just throw food and drinks at you left and right on transatlantic flights. Gotta go with them next time instead of this cheap shit you chose."   
  
"Didn't know airlines gave free anything," Steve answered, watching Sam's menu scroll by.  
  
"You get peanuts sometimes. A coke. I think we get a free meal on a flight this long but it'll be nasty. I got this gross caramel waffle thing one time when a flight had been delayed so don't let them give you one of those," Sam told him as he selected something.   
  
"Noted." Steve had pretty much no choice but to buy extra food for himself and Bucky at some point. He figured now was a good time, since Sam was getting something. Then the attendant only had to come by once. That minimized the chances of awkward or unpleasant incidences. He turned to Bucky and said, "Hey, why don't you pick some food out for later?"  
  
Bucky looked away from the window and blinked. Steve pointed to the touchscreen monitor. Bucky tapped it tentatively and it brought up the flight map and his brows furrowed. "This is not to scale."  
  
"God," Sam muttered.   
  
"Don't worry about that, look at the food," Steve told him, tapping the menu instead. He gave Bucky some time and focused on picking his own meal instead. Bucky was still in a grey place when it came to making his own choices but Steve wanted to give him the chance to try before stepping in for him.   
  
"Just a warning, none of that shit is gonna taste good," Sam told him. "I'm not trying to be negative. This is just a known thing." Sam paused and looked thoughtful. "Then again, you said you guys used to boil most your foods so maybe this'll be an adventure for your tastebuds."  
  
"I'm going to throw you out of an airlock," Steve told him. He settled on a couple of sandwiches and tried not to read the total. To his pleasant surprise, Bucky was finished ordering too and again, Steve tried not to see how much it cost. It hurt him, spending money like this.   
  
In a little while, the food came and that was when Steve realized he should have checked what Bucky had picked after all, even if he was trying not to be overbearing. "Bucky...that's all junk food."  
  
"You said to pick food."  
  
"Yeah, real food. Not...candy."  
  
"Why isn't candy a real food?"  
  
"It's got no nutritional value."   
  
Bucky looked at the bag of M&Ms he was holding, then held it out to Steve. "Calcium."  
  
Sam sputtered, clearly trying not to laugh. That made Bucky uncertain. So Steve corrected himself. "Low nutritional value relative to the amount of sugar. How about that?"  
  
"Sugar is bad," Bucky said in confirmation of his understanding. But then his brows drew together. "But Jarvis told me fruit has sugars. And you said fruit is good."  
  
Steve was not exactly a nutritionist so he wasn't sure how to reconcile this. Jarvis wasn't available to discuss it further, being that they had no wifi up here. Well, they technically did but there was no way in hell Steve was paying that much to look at news stories that would just piss him off anyway. "Well..." he said, fumbling for an answer that would lead to Bucky not thinking candy and fruit were on the same level as far as health went. "It's-"  
  
"Look, fruit is nature's candy," Sam put in. "And nature's good. There you have it."  
  
"Nature's good?" Steve echoed incredulously. "Arsenic's from nature, you gonna start drinking that?"  
  
"If it got me off this flight any faster, yeah, I would."  
  
"Fruit is candy but also arsenic is-" Bucky started, features pinching tighter as he tried to untangle the logic.  
  
"No," Steve told him.   
  
"Apple seeds have cyanide in them though. That's for real," Sam said. "So, close."  
  
"I ate apple seeds. Before Natasha told me you don't eat the apple core," Bucky said.   
  
"Uh, that's how you grow apples in your stomach. I'd say you have forty-eight hours left to live. Enjoy them."  
  
Bucky's eyes widened and he glanced at Steve for confirmation. To which Steve sighed and said, "That's not true at all Bucky. And you'd have to eat tons of apple seeds before they would hurt you."  
  
"So I _can_ eat the apple core?" Bucky asked.  
  
"What? I mean...you still probably shouldn't."  
  
"You're like a god damned garbage disposal, Barnes," Sam muttered.   
  
"I don't eat garbage anymore," Bucky protested heatedly and with a faint touch of pride. Steve's heart wanted to sink at hearing those words from a guy who used to take such good care of himself, who was considered charming and intelligent. But he tried not to let it happen because that pity wouldn't get anybody anywhere. So Bucky hadn't eaten in so long that he didn't realize the food in the garbage was not okay to take back out and eat, even if it didn't look like it'd spoiled. Big deal.  
  
Big fucking deal. Yes, it was. God.   
  
"He meant you eat a lot. Which is fine. You and me have to eat a lot," Steve said.   
  
"So I can eat this?" Bucky indicated his tray table, which had a bag of M&Ms, a cookie, Pringles, and thing of Twizzlers. With a water, at least. Because, somehow despite the sweet tooth the novelty of flavor gave him, he hated the bubbly carbonation of soda and beer.   
  
"Yeah," Steve conceded. Next time he'd just double-check the order. It'd be easier than trying to explain all this again.   
  
Time crawled by, as it could only do on long trips. Steve wasn't sure where Bucky got this idea in his head but it was his own idea so Steve would support it. When Bucky learned about apologies and forgiveness-that is, that people _could_ apologize to him and that he wasn't always required to beg somebody's forgiveness for minor mistakes-he thought it would be appropriate for him to apologize to any people he hurt during his time as the Winter Soldier. Steve was resistant at first, largely because he didn't believe Bucky needed to apologize. It wasn't his fault, after all. He hadn't been in control of himself, so why should he apologize for somebody else's wrongs?   
  
After talking with Natasha and Clint about it, he'd conceded that if it helped Bucky to feel better, maybe it was worth doing. So they were doing it. Steve thought it could be a chance for them to see the world along the way. Places they only ever saw during combat and assignments. There wasn't a whole lot of time for enjoying art and history when you were chasing down terrorists or shooting at Nazis. Now was as good a chance as any. Natasha came along as support. Sam came along as...well, Steve liked to think of it as support but Sam had said himself it was to bolster his Instagram followers. So Steve wasn't quite sure what to make of it just yet.   
  
His attention was demanded suddenly at the sound of Bucky gasping and the crunch of glass. The guy sitting in front of Bucky jerked forward with a shout of, "What the hell?!" And when Steve looked at Bucky, he noticed the screen set in the seat was now laced with spider-web cracks. Bucky was staring at it, one fist still raised but only now processing that he wasn't supposed to break it. Sam had a hand over his mouth, likely to conceal laughter.   
  
Steve tugged out his earbuds, ready to placate the irritated person in front of Bucky. Steve had only to glance at the broken screen to put it all together. Bucky had punched the screen, for whatever reason. Undoubtedly the guy in the next row felt it. "Hey, sorry about that," Steve told the guy. "How about a couple of drinks on me, okay?" He hoped that was understood to mean 'don't make the plane land and you can get shitfaced on my account'.   
  
It seemed to be.   
  
Steve looked at Bucky, eyebrows raised. Bucky looked a little shook up, but whispered, "The bear had her voice."  
  
Steve had no idea what to do with that information. "Were you watching a movie?"  
  
Bucky blinked. Then nodded.  
  
"Okay, you can't punch out the screen though. We'll get kicked off the plane," Steve tried to explain.   
  
"It felt very real."  
  
"I'm sure it did," Steve said. "But we don't want to be stuck in some airport trying to find a flight that will take us. Okay?"  
  
Bucky nodded slowly in the way that told Steve he didn't understand all the nuances but he got the point. No more destruction, accidental or not.   
  
"Told you," Sam muttered. "Finger. Through. The Mona Lisa." Steve sighed because he didn't exactly have a good come back. Sam just sank further in his chair and tipped back his tiny bottle of liquor.

 


	2. Flowers, Criteria of a Fruit, Public Sex Talks

They landed in Paris at about four PM local time. Steve wouldn't say he was exhausted. It took a lot to get him to that point. Sam looked pretty tired, and Natasha-  
  
Well, she never looked anything but what she wanted you to think she was, so it was hard to say. Regardless, it was ten AM EST, which meant they'd all missed a night of sleep. Yeah Sam had managed a couple hours bent over his flimsy tray table. And who knew how much sleep Natasha had gotten with her spacious two-seat set up. But Steve knew he hadn't gotten any sleep, and he was pretty sure Bucky hadn't either.   
  
"Can we get a shower or something before we go anywhere?" Sam asked. "I feel gross as hell."  
  
"Don't you always?" Natasha said smoothly. Despite Steve feeling kind of greasy and unwashed, Natasha looked as perfect as usual. And there weren't any showers in economy class flights, as far as he knew.   
  
"Hey," Sam said. "Look, you may have gotten an extra seat all to yourself, but we were back there packed in like sardines. And somebody got jumpy during his in-flight movie and punched out a screen so it was extra awkward, all right?"  
  
"The bear _took her voice_ ," Bucky insisted like they knew what he was talking about, plainly irritated. He still got pretty tense in crowded places. Which, to someone who had lived seventy years in a world that included about twelve people, was most places. The airport was no exception, and he was practically pasted into Natasha's side. He tended to do that to everybody who didn't tell him to knock it off.  
  
"That part freaked me out, too," Natasha told him, taking his hand as they left the airport. There was a train that would take them into the city, and they followed the signs for it. "But I thought it was kind of beautiful when the one girl turned into a flowering tree."  
  
Bucky shook his head even as his eyes darted all over the place. "Trees can't move or eat."  
  
Natasha smiled. "But they're so peaceful."  
  
"I don't want to be a tree," Bucky told her, like it was a possibility to be concerned about.  
  
"What kind of flowers would you grow?" she asked him.  
  
He thought very seriously about this before he said, "Maybe blue ones."  
  
"What the hell are you two talking about?" Sam demanded on the tail end of a yawn.   
  
"You'd be _red,_ " Bucky told him like this was something to be offended by. Steve was in Sam's camp-he had no idea what any of this meant. Natasha smiled, so at least somebody was in on the joke.   
  
"Oh yeah?" Sam said. "Well red means a lot of good things, like passion. Blue is depressed and stupid."  
  
"I'm not depressed," Bucky said defensively. He stopped to watch a couple intently as they passed by, as if to be sure they didn't suddenly break out a pair of AR-15s and start blowing everyone away. Then he looked back at Sam. "I like blue. It's a pleasant color."  
  
"Oh, like Steve's eyes?" Sam asked whimsically, batting his eyelashes.   
  
Steve stared at him. "What's that got to do with anything?"  
  
Sam snorted like Steve was an idiot but explained nothing. "You guys know this is like a twenty minute train ride? I'm so tired."  
  
"I slept like a baby," Natasha said, shrugging. "I'm ready to go out and see some world-class art."  
  
"Maybe tomorrow," Steve said. He just wanted to eat his weight in baguettes and strange cheeses and sleep it off.   
  
"What do you look at art for?" Bucky asked.   
  
"Because it's usually pretty," Natasha told him.   
  
"How do I know if it's pretty or not?" Bucky wondered.   
  
"You'll just feel it," she said.   
  
"It's more complicated than that," Steve insisted. He had to. He wanted to be an artist, once upon a time. And it did him no good to say anything could be art. Because then his works that were failing looked all the worse. "You've got principles of design to consider. And elements of art."  
  
"Parameters," Bucky stated, to show he understood. Things without rules from some external authority left him at a loss.   
  
"Yeah," Steve said. "Like the composition matters, and the technique. There's color and form and rhythm and-"  
  
"Oh my God Bob Ross I am asleep on my feet here," Sam said. "Save it for when we get to the Louvre."  
  
Steve rolled his eyes. "Anything in the Louvre is beyond my critique, trust me. Those are the masters."  
  
"I don't know anything about art," Bucky admitted. "Is it important? For assignments?"  
  
"This isn't an assignment," Natasha told him. Steve tried not to keep glancing at their interlaced fingers but he couldn't help it. Luckily Sam was beside him, otherwise he undoubtedly would've noticed and commented. "It's just for fun."  
  
"Fun..." Bucky echoed, a slight wrinkle appearing between his brows as he tried to parse that. God only knew what sorts of things Hydra told him were 'for fun'. Steve refused to think about it. It could only lead to sky-rocketing blood pressure and cursing in public.  
  
"Don't worry too much, Buck," Steve told him. "We're gonna get a meal and some sleep first anyway."  
  
"What do they eat here? Is there pizza?" Bucky asked. His eyes revealed how badly he hoped that was the case. Steve really needed to get him to eat better.  
  
"No," Sam said just to be an ass. "Pizza is actually against the law here. It's all _foie gras_ and _cordon bleu_."  
  
Bucky looked upset and puzzled all at once. The train pulled into the station, less noisy than the lines in New York or DC. "You have to eat...fat livers?" Bucky asked as they boarded.   
  
"We're not eating that so don't worry," Steve told him, taking a seat. It was more uncomfortable than the plane. "There's pizza. But you should eat vegetables and stuff sometimes you know. Something more balanced than pizza and fried food and candy."  
  
"They put vegetables on pizza," Bucky told him as if he didn't know. "Onions. Olives. Are those vegetables?"  
  
"Maybe," Steve said, because he wasn't sure either.  
  
"Of course they are," Sam said like they were idiots.  
  
"What's the line between a vegetable and fruit?" Steve asked. Nearly four years he'd been in the future with the internet and never once looked it up.  
  
"It has something to do with seeds and sugars, I think," Natasha said.   
  
"Olives have seeds. In the middle," Bucky said, from experience. He'd nearly broken his molars on them enough times, so he oughta know.  
  
"No, those are pits. That's not a seed," Sam said.   
  
"Pits are seeds," Natasha insisted. "Olives are a fruit."  
  
"You aren't supposed to put fruit on pizza," Bucky said, gravely serious. "Tony Stark told me so."  
  
"Is he still salty about the fucking pineapples?" Sam demanded.   
  
"He told me pineapples are unholy on pizza," Bucky explained as if this wasn't an entirely too dramatic reaction to a pizza topping. "So maybe olives are, too."  
  
"Alright, better not catch anybody with tomatoes or tomato sauce on there because guess what? Tomato's a fruit!" Sam said.   
  
"Oh my God, no one cares what anybody puts on a pizza!" Steve muttered irritably, nose pinched between his thumb and forefinger. Maybe he was more tired than he thought. "It's just food! Why does everybody in the future have opinions like this?" The train rumbled on through the dark of the tunnels below the city, so he didn't even have anything good to look at to distract from the conversation.  
  
"Like what?" Natasha asked. He knew she was amused even if she was displaying an expression of curiosity. It didn't stop him from responding.  
  
"You people always get worked up about such trivial things other people are doing! Like, 'how can you not have read Harry Potter?' or 'you can't put ketchup on a hotdog!' Who cares! Just live your damn life and move on."  
  
"You're getting bullied online again, aren't you?" Sam asked.   
  
Steve sighed because he couldn't deny that there was always somebody on the internet harassing him, mainly on Twitter. And maybe the PR lady Pepper had hired for the Avengers was threatening to have someone else manage his account if he didn't stop harassing people back. But also because it just didn't matter. "People go to the internet to masturbate and air their grievances, both things they should keep to themselves," Steve muttered. He kept his voice low, not wanting to draw attention to what he'd just said.   
  
"I thought you masturbate in the shower?" Bucky asked, not catching the need for nuance in a public space like a train car. Natasha smirked but looked down, like she didn't want to be seen grinning at such a juvenile sentence.   
  
"You can't say that so loud on the train," Steve told him wearily. Hydra left Bucky shame for things like spilling a drink or breaking a glass. Sexual topics didn't even register, which Steve supposed he should really be thankful for in the end. Even if it could lead to awkward situations.  
  
"But you said-"  
  
"I said it quietly," Steve told him.   
  
"I don't masturbate though," Bucky said like that made up for it. "Natasha says my sex drive is diminished so it's okay if I don't want to masturbate."  
  
"Oh my God," Steve muttered, rubbing his eyes. Was it hot in here? And why was Natasha talking to Bucky about his sex drive? That was between him and a doctor. Were they-  
  
"It'll probably balance out," Natasha said. "Some day. If anybody pressures you for sex, just tell them no. And if they still pressure you-"  
  
"Punch them in the face," Bucky finished as if reciting advice he'd been given before. Natasha nodded with the satisfaction of a teacher proud of their student. Steve wasn't sure how to feel about all that but it was probably a good thing to teach Bucky.   
  
"You two better stop talking about sex in public," Sam said. "Steve's gonna lose it."  
  
"Is sex bad to talk about?" Bucky asked. Natasha was smirking again.  
  
"Yes," Steve said without much thought. Bucky looked like he'd done a major wrong, eyes glued to his feet all of a sudden. "No, I don't mean-" Steve tried to amend. The amused looks from Natasha and Sam were making it hard to concentrate. "Just...the subway isn't the best place for that kind of discussion."  
  
"It's Paris, Steve," Natasha said. "If you can't talk about sex in public here, where can you?"  
  
"Nowhere, I hope," Steve said.   
  
"God you're repressed," Sam said.   
  
"Oh please," Steve answered with a roll of his eyes. Everybody thought because he grew up a hundred years ago he had puritanical ideas about sex. People could, to borrow the parlance of the times, bang whoever they wanted and however often they wanted. He just didn't think it was a good topic for a casual chat. "In my day it was called being polite company."  
  
"In my day," Natasha echoed, affecting an old woman's voice. Sam snickered.   
  
"I feel decidedly ganged up on," Steve muttered.  
  
"You still got Bucky," Sam said with a shrug. "He'll always be on your side just 'cause he doesn't know any better."  
  
"Is this bad?" Bucky asked.   
  
"Nah," Sam said. "It's cute."   
  
Steve kept the annoyed sigh to himself this time. More for Bucky's sake than Sam's, because Sam wouldn't care to begin with. Instead he looked out the window, noticing signs for the Catacombs and wondering how long he could hide in them before someone kicked him out.

 


	3. Breakfast, Parameters of Normalcy, Winning Nothing

"Okay," Steve said, pausing to drink coffee. It was pure habit at this point. And well, maybe it'd been kind of a novelty at first, getting to have coffee that wasn't black sludge. Add on to that it was coffee served by a decent(he would not spring for high class, much to Sam's disappointment) hotel in Paris, and you had something worth drinking for its own sake. He glanced up at the others. "I thought today we could go to the Louvre. Tomorrow Musée d'Orsay and the greater landmarks. Maybe on Thursday we can go to Montmartre. Does that sound okay?"  
  
"Hey, I'm here in a purely observational capacity," Sam said. He dipped the warm slice of baguette into his coffee and took a bite. Then he pulled a face. "Whoever came up with all that 'when in Rome' shit's an idiot. Sometimes your culture just never did it because it was gross to begin with."  
  
"What do you know," Natasha said, amused. "An American whose decided for all of us that his way is the best way. Should we go get a pound of bacon and some pancakes before you starve?"  
  
"Yeah, okay, somebody call up room service and get this lady some snails. I mean since you're so open-minded and all." Sam spread his hands and shrugged.  
  
But Natasha was pretty tough to beat. "You think I've never eaten anything worse than snails?"  
  
"I guess Russian food's right down there with whatever the hell the English are eating these days," Sam said.   
  
"Knock it off already," Steve said. Maybe he was a little sensitive to cracks at the expense of the English, so sue him. "I'd like to try to figure out a rough plan just so we can take the right trai-Um. Your nose." He brushed the tip of his own nose with his fingers as an example for Bucky. There was chocolate on it, somehow.  
  
Bucky touched it tentatively to check what the problem was. Then licked the chocolate off his fingers.   
  
"We are _ready_ for that Parisian five star dining experience," Sam said.   
  
"Use this." Steve held out one of the napkins that had come in on the breakfast tray. He glanced at the packets to find out where chocolate had even come from. Breakfast had been coffees and teas, croissants, baguettes, a few things of yogurt, fruits. No chocolate. There were little squares of butter in foil. Some packets of honey and...Nutella. Steve closed his eyes briefly. "Don't eat the chocolate out of the packet. At least put it on a piece of bread or something."  
  
"Or something," Sam whispered lewdly and Natasha giggled like a school girl. Steve didn't dignify their childishness with an eye roll. It was still early.  
  
"Are there going to be people at the museums?" Bucky asked, trying to spread the Nutella onto a croissant. The pastry just ended up getting kind of mashed and flaked apart. He frowned, trying to be even more careful but it was a difficult task to begin with.   
  
"The Louvre is one of the most visited museums in the world man," Sam told him.   
  
"So people will be there?"   
  
"Uh, yeah, I'd say there'd be people."  
  
Bucky looked solemnly at his squished croissant. "A lot of them?"  
  
"You don't have to go, you know," Steve told him. "You could stay here, or go to a park. If you go to Notre Dame, there are a bunch of pigeons there."  
  
Unwilling to miss any chance at making a jab at Sam's expense, Bucky quickly blurted, "Sam's French cousins."  
  
"Oh!" Sam cried, affecting a very offended tone. Steve grinned. Bucky smiled slightly, like he'd done something impressive.   
  
But his pride was short lived and he said with some resignation, "I'll go to the museum. To see the art and culture."  
  
"Okay. Whatever you want," Steve told him. "But this is really your trip. You could go to Montmartre today if you wanted to. We don't have to be there."  
  
Bucky shook his head immediately, eyes betraying to Steve that the notion of traveling somewhere alone in such a crowded place with no one to tell him what to do was terrifying at best. From Natasha's experience with Bucky in Russia, Steve knew he used to be more independent. That he'd frequently run assignments with zero oversight, no field handlers. But the American branch of Hydra had severely blunted his independence for whatever reason. Maybe they thought he was easier to control that way. Steve tried not to think about it. He was trying to avoid any internal rages before breakfast was even finished.   
  
"The assignment is to develop skills necessary to being a normal person," Bucky explained tentatively. "Normal people go to museums and see important things. So I will do it too."  
  
Steve's heart sank a little, for a lot of reasons. Natasha stepped in, saying, "I wouldn't be too concerned with being normal."  
  
"Yeah, that's a lofty goal you're setting yourself up with," Sam muttered, sipping his own coffee.  
  
"I don't think a single damn one of us gets to say much about what counts as normal," Steve said. "I'm a walking science project. You fly around war zones in experimental flight suits. Natasha's a spy." He shrugged and looked at Bucky. "Normal isn't too important to us." Bucky's brows drew together as he thought about that and Steve saw frustration there. And maybe he understood where it came from. The rest of them understood what normal was so they could better operate outside its parameters. For Bucky, it was a little different. But Steve wasn't really sure what to do about it. "If you want to go to the Louvre, it's fine. Just as long as you know what to expect."  
  
"Art and people," Bucky mumbled around his croissant.   
  
"Correct!" Sam said in a voice reminiscent of an overly enthusiastic game show host. "What does he win?" A packet of Nutella was launched from one end of the little round table to the other, and Bucky caught it before it could smack him in the face. Sam narrowed his eyes and whispered loudly, "Nothing."  
  
"At least I won," Bucky sneered back. Then he paused, puzzling over whether or not that made any sense. Is it still winning if you win nothing? Steve didn't care enough to answer. He had trains and directions to work out.  
  
"If you two break something in a museum, I'm leaving you at the mercy of the authorities," Natasha muttered, standing up. She disappeared through the open door that connected the two rooms, and Steve heard the tap come on briefly.   
  
"Whenever you guys are done throwing things at each other," Steve said, following Natasha's example. He went to the sink to brush his teeth. As he did, his eyes wandered and he looked over the other room Nat and Bucky had shared. He tried not to think about how one of the beds was rumpled and clearly slept in while the other was still neatly made. Didn't matter, not his business, better things to think about. Like Paris, and being in it.   
  
He spat into the sink, willing any suspicions or jealousy or whatever stupid things to disappear down the drain too.

 


	4. Book Deals, Curses, Mona Lisa's Eyebrows

Sam hummed appreciatively as they approached the museum. It was big. Somehow way bigger than Steve thought it would be. It was kind of surreal to even be standing so close to the iconic glass pyramids on the other side of the security checkpoint. He always got that feeling when he went somewhere famous. When he first made it to DC it didn't feel real, even though it was a lot closer to New York than Paris. To think the poor kid of an Irish immigrant family would ever see places like this was unbelievable. And that was before factoring in the seventy years of sleep thing.   
  
"There are a lot of people in the queue..." Bucky mumbled, eyes flicking over the different lines packed with tourists.   
  
"Queue?" Sam echoed. "Don't bring that bullshit into my life. You say _line,_ like God intended."  
  
Bucky blinked. Natasha said brightly, "Let's get in the queue everyone." She hooked her arm in Sam's as he groaned at her. Bucky still looked uncertain and like he'd done something wrong.  
  
Steve patted him on the shoulder and said, "I told you. Everybody's got very serious opinions in the future, no matter how unimportant the subject."  
  
"Why is queue bad to say?" Bucky asked in a whisper as if to avoid raising Sam's faux-ire.  
  
"They don't really say it...anywhere in America," Steve told him. "But it's a free country so you use whatever words you want."  
  
"Who came up with the words?" Bucky asked, squinting as he puzzled it out.  
  
"Which ones?"  
  
Here he paused. The line moved forward a few steps. "Any of them."  
  
Steve blew out a breath. "Hell if I know."  
  
"Then how did anyone decide they all meant the same thing? Who is assigning and enforcing their meanings?"  
  
"Um..." Steve gave it a little thought. Thought. Thawwwt. Thought-thought-thought- And shit it'd become temporarily meaningless. Why _did_ words mean what they meant and who was deciding- "You know, this is a conversation you could have with Jarvis. I think he'd have better answers for you." Anything to stop words from feeling so strange in his own head like this.   
  
"Okay."  
  
They got through the security without serious incident. Natasha had provided some gadget to attach to one of the plates of Bucky's left arm that somehow prevented metal detectors from going off. That didn't make Bucky any less tense about the scrutiny, though. Steve imagined it was kind of a tough thing to get used to. He was supposed to be invisible to the general populace, and here he was at one of the biggest tourist attractions on the planet, having some security guard look him over. It plainly made Bucky anxious, and he glued himself to Sam as soon as he came out the other side of the checkpoint.   
  
"No," Sam said flatly, as he usually did when Bucky did that to him. Both him and Tony were typically put off by the strange habit. Sam because it was Bucky and Tony because it was Bucky but also because he wasn't so great with sharing his personal space like that with anyone, except maybe Pepper and Rhodey. Sam took Bucky by the shoulders and guided him into Steve as he exited the checkpoint himself.   
  
A small _oof_ escaped him when he accidentally walked right into Bucky. He may have been a little absorbed in his surroundings. "Sorry," Steve said, throwing an arm around his shoulders. "Just...really surreal being here." He didn't add the _with you._ Of course it sounded absolutely corny, but it wasn't often his friends came back from the dead.  
  
"I don't understand _surreal_ ," Bucky told him, eyes darting everywhere. It was plain he didn't like being here, which made Steve feel kind of shitty. He'd made it as clear as he could that Bucky wasn't required to come but it was hard to tell sometimes if Bucky agreed to things because he genuinely wanted to or because he thought punishment awaited him if he chose wrong.   
  
"It's like...it's hard to believe where I am."  
  
Bucky frowned, even as his eyes continued their futile attempt to track everyone in the vicinity at once. "Why? You can only ever be where you are."  
  
Steve shrugged. "I guess I just overthink things sometimes."  
  
"You should write a book," Sam said to Bucky. "I, for one, would pay top dollar to have access to your thoughts and opinions."  
  
"I have a thought now that you are making _fun_ ," Bucky muttered.   
  
"So get him back," Natasha said.   
  
Bucky pressed his lips together, brows furrowed as he thought hard and finally said, "No one. Would pay for your thoughts. Or even hear them for free."  
  
"God damn," Sam said to the sound of Natasha's most obnoxious cackle. It was pretty infectious so Steve couldn't help his own laughter. The little confident smile it gave Bucky was just a bonus.   
  


* * *

  
The place was packed and Steve had tried to prepare himself for that. But no amount of thinking about it could make him realize just how crowded it was. He studied the map in his hands, the tactician in him going to work to plan the most efficient route through. Even if the place was a veritable labyrinth, he thought he'd come up with a good enough plan.   
  
The oldest stuff was first. It seemed like there was an endless amount of artifacts, and there was no way any of them could take the time to study each one. They did a pretty decent job of not losing each other. It helped that Bucky was glued to Natasha right now.   
  
They got to the ancient Egyptian wing when Sam made a tutting kind of noise. "Seems weird we put dead bodies on display just 'cause they're old." Steve looked away from the little urns with the animal heads to see a wrapped up mummy in a glass case.   
  
"Mummies are real?" Bucky asked.   
  
"Uh," Steve said because that wasn't a question he was expecting.  
  
"Why wouldn't they be?" Sam said, plainly ready for a good explanation.   
  
"I saw them in the movies. With a wolfman and a vampire and those aren't real." Bucky stared at the wrapped up body laid out on a slab. He poked the glass twice, like somebody at an aquarium trying to attract a fish. Natasha took his wrist and pulled it away.   
  
"Don't touch anything," she told him.   
  
"I mean, unless you _want_ a mummy curse put on you," Sam said casually.  
  
Bucky's head whipped around immediately. "No," he said. "I don't want that."  
  
"That's not a real thing, Bucky," Steve told him. And to Sam, "Cut it out."  
  
"Okay, but it's real. Read up on those guys who found King Tut."  
  
"I lived through those guys finding King Tut," Steve said, not holding in his exasperation. He was only old when it was convenient for people.   
  
"God damn you're old," Sam muttered. "Anyway, all those dudes who found him died of unusual circumstances. That's the mummy's curse. So whose to say this mummy won't curse us for gawking at it?"  
  
Bucky's eyes darted back and forth between Natasha and Steve, gauging their expressions to determine how concerned he should be about mummy's curses. Sam made it kind of difficult for Steve to tell Bucky to trust him sometimes. Sam said it was important that Bucky develop a bullshit filter. Steve was pretty sure he just liked fucking with people and Bucky was an easy target.  
  
"We're cursed all right," Natasha said. She tugged Bucky's hand to get him to move on. "Wherever we go, Sam's always there."  
  
"Sleep tight you guys," Sam said, adding a faux-sinister laugh.

* * *

"There it is," Steve said, even if it didn't really need saying. The Mona Lisa was the most famous artwork produced by the Western world, so yeah. That and the enormous crowd made it obvious the painting was kind of a big deal. Steve wrinkled his nose a little at the number of people snapping selfies instead of photos of the painting itself, but maybe that was the crotchety old bastard in him.   
  
"Kinda small," Sam said.   
  
"Really? You even have complaints about this?" Steve demanded.   
  
"It's not a complaint," Sam said defensively. He gestured to it from their position at the side of the room. The crowd was kind of corralled by a couple barriers but the room was still packed to the gills, making it nearly impossible to stay in one place before somebody pushed you forward. "I'm just saying I didn't expect it. You never see pictures of it like this, it's always the whole canvas and nothing else for scale."  
  
Steve guessed that was fair.   
  
"What is it?" Bucky asked.   
  
"It's the most famous painting Leonardo Da Vinci ever produced," Steve told him.   
  
"Oh. Who is that?"  
  
"He was a painter from a long time ago. 1500s." Steve squinted at the painting, an old habit from his days before the serum perfected his eyesight. He didn't need to squint anymore but it felt like it improved his vision anyway.   
  
"Who is the person in the painting?"  
  
"Lisa del Giocondo," Steve said. "The wife of an Italian merchant."  
  
"There's a very strange theory that it's Da Vinci in drag," Natasha supplied.  
  
Steve snorted. The future was full of weird theories. Or maybe weird theories had always been around and the internet just made it easier to hear about them.  
  
"Why doesn't she have eyebrows?" Bucky asked.   
  
"Asking the real questions," Sam said. "I can appreciate that."  
  
"Well, that I don't know," Steve answered. "Maybe it was a fashion at the time? Or maybe something resulting from restoration efforts?" Steve shrugged, eyes drawn to Mona Lisa's lack of eyebrows like he could find the answer there. But he couldn't.   
  
"A lot of the things here are old," Bucky observed. "But not all of them have so many people looking at them. Why not?"  
  
"Some are more famous than others," Natasha said.   
  
"Why?"  
  
Steve said, "Nobody cares about tiny figurines or old pottery from ancient Rome. But the life-size statue of Nike is pretty striking. There are tons of portraits of women from five hundred years ago, but Mona Lisa's enigmatic expression is iconic and masterfully executed by Da Vinci. They're just particularly memorable, well made, and pretty old."  
  
"Like you two," Natasha said with a grin.   
  
"Zing," Sam added, sharing a brief low-five with Nat.   
  
"Don't be bitter you guys've never had museum exhibits dedicated to you, okay?" Steve shot back in good humor, eyes still focused on the Mona Lisa. Even with the swarms of people struggling to get as close as possible for a good picture or selfie, it was an amazing site he felt grateful to have witnessed. Even if she didn't have eyebrows.

 


End file.
